


Tolling

by CaffeinatedBunny



Series: 13 o'clock [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Aftermath of MCD, Hurt No Comfort, It's going to hurt before it gets better, M/M, Nightmares, Sad Ending, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedBunny/pseuds/CaffeinatedBunny
Summary: They have haunted Eames since that day he spent staring at his lover's headstone. They just keep Tolling right alongside the crackle of flames.





	Tolling

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry, please forgive me.

It reverberates through him, the tolling of church bells; they echo through the night's sky that's devoid of any clouds to obscure the light from the moon. There's nothing to hide the sight from him and he's anchored to the earth, to this very spot unable to do anything but watch. Watch as flames lick at the side of the house he knows so well, watch as the figure in the Livingroom window is oblivious to the danger continue to fold laundry. 

There's no stopping the tears as they trail down his cheeks but the sight before him never wavers doesn't get lost in them and he can't look away as the fire gets big, hotter. His voice has left him, he opens his mouth to scream but not a sound passes his lips, he's breaking piece by piece as the scene continues to play before him. His unassisted dreams had always felt passive compared to when using the device but this dream he couldn't escape. Eames could smell the stench of burning, warping plastic of the siding, the acrid scent hangs in the air as ashes fall around him. The crackle of the flames, the way they tossed shadows about has him unable to look away.

His knees give out, sending him crashing to the dew dampened grass as he watches Arthur; his Arthur carry on with the laundry like it was any other day between jobs. While flames slowly turn their house to ash. He watches in mute horror as Arthur is first slowly trapped by the flames before being engulfed. The crackle of wood, the pop of heat cracking glass, the groan of the house and a painful scream that won't leave his ears has him jolting awake finally to a reality that wasn't any better than the nightmare.

Eames always knows when he's dreaming, dreaming in the worst ways because if he was hooked up to the pasiv none of his nightmares would happen. He'd be able to change it, alter it... save the point man and have him be safe, alive and with him. Eames won't use the pasive, can't use the pasive device; it would have been an addiction he'd never let go of; a hopeless balm to his broken soul. So no he'll suffer through the nightmares because he's already living one he can't wake up from. This isn't the first time he's had this nightmare and it wouldn't be his last. 

He doesn't know how it happened, wasn't there when the house went up in flames taking the only man he wanted to spend his life with, with it but the image of it haunted him. The same way when it got too quiet all he could hear was that damn fucking church bell. Tolling out its mournful chime as he stood there staring at the headstone of Arthur, it had sunk into his bones and refused to leave him. It echoed in his head everytime he laid down to sleep, an echo he couldn't forget or drown out.

In his dreams he can't let go of this moment that he had never born witness too but a part of him wishes he had been there too. That the flames had taken him as well but Eames knows that Arthur would hate him if he allowed his sorrow and grief to drown him. He knows that if he gave into his darkest longings Arthur wouldn't be there waiting where ever they go in the here-after. So he's stuck with nightmares of watching his lover slowly be engulfed in flames unable to do anything. 

On nights where he can't stand to dream he drinks himself to oblivion; to the point of passing out. Not that he's not reaching for the bottles as soon as he's back at his hotel not able to cope. Eames needs time, how much time he doesn't know. How much time does one need to get over the love of their life? He doesn't think it can be measured in time off, as days, weeks or months. He's not sure if it's actually something one get's over but Eames hopes he can get a handle on it, at least learn how to carry on while his heart is shattered and every beat feels like he's bleeding out. 

He curls himself up, wrapped and tangled up in the hotel blanket and sheets as he lays there in the unfamiliar yet familiar bed staring out blankly at the empty walls unable to go back to sleep. Hungover, exhausted and grief taken. Reaching out with a trembling hand he fumbles with his phone to hit play on an audio recording that he saved.

"Eames, just come home soon alright? I love you... the house feels empty with out you here and I'm finding it hard to sleep with out you beside him. I know the jobs ran over but please just come home..."


End file.
